


in mathematics, two planes will cross once, or never meet

by lacksley



Series: sojourner [1]
Category: Hyakujuuou GoLion | Beast King GoLion, Voltron: Defender of the Universe (1984), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Body Swap, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Gen, Implied/Referenced Memory Loss, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Parallel Universes, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 03, Psychological Horror, Shiro (Voltron) Angst, Slavery, Suffering, Unreliable Narrator, implied soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacksley/pseuds/lacksley
Summary: Shiro’s gone, everyone's gone and Shiro doesn't know how to find them, how to make sure they’re taken care of, how to fix this mess he’s gotten himself into. He should be panicking, he should be terrified, he should be punching his way out of this blackness.He's not.Selfishly, he feels calm. The tension in his body is gone, his limbs are slack. He can’t move. He can't even find the energy to hate himself, for failing them.Post "Blackout"—Shiro wakes up. Something's off.A love letter to GoLion.





	1. escape

_ When I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place. _

 

 

 

Shiro dreams of darkness.

Suffocating, enveloping, all surrounding—no matter where he looks he is alone, floating in the void.

Despite this, he doesn’t feel afraid. He doesn’t feel worried either, though part of him knows he should be. He’s gone, everyone's gone and he doesn't know how to find them, how to make sure they’re taken care of, how to  _ fix _ this mess he’s gotten himself into. He should be panicking, he should be terrified, he should be punching his way out of this blackness.

He's not.

Selfishly, he feels calm. The tension in his body is gone, his limbs are slack. He can’t move. He can't even find the energy to hate himself, for failing them. There's nothing he can do, there’s nothing he can do  _ there's nothing he can do there’s nothing _

_ all of them are gone and sucked away into the vacuum of space the cold void of unfeeling monsters and bloody battles and Samuel is already gone and Matt is going to be next and he's going to die in this bloody arena and it's your fault it’s all your fault it’s all _

gone.

He wants to scream, wants to tear out his hair and sever the false parts of him and open his eyes and  _ wake up _ but he can’t because Shiro knows there’s nothing there but that  _ terrible  _ blackness.

He knows there's nothing left of him anymore.

It doesn’t feel like his body is there, with his mind. Does he still have it? Or did it disappear with the rest of him? 

_ How long has he been here? _

Bones shatter under his not-fist.  _ He is alone. _

Lance smiles at him, tired but happy, and Shiro thinks  _ this is what it's like to have a family. _

Zarkon crushes his throat.  _ He is alone. _

Pidge stares out into space, counting the stars and the ticks since he left and Shiro thinks  _ I have to get back to them. _

This how Sendak must feel. Floating alone in his fragile pod, dead or dreaming, unaware of how close he is to fading out of existence. Shiro did that to him. It's Shiro's fault. Now Shiro shares his fate.

There are a million miles between him and any sort of comfort he could take.

He can see it now; they don't need him anymore.

Keith will grow stronger, he knows. The little bits of himself he saw in the boy are fading as he gets closer to becoming a man. Lance too, is getting stronger.

They are all getting stronger without him.

To Shiro, that's fine. To Takashi, that's fine. Maybe, he thinks, drifting in the void, he'll find Samuel. Maybe he'll find Matt.

Maybe he'll find himself. He can hear them calling…

 

"Shirogane! Wake up Shirogane!" Someone is shaking him. "Come on Takashi, we're almost there."

Shiro can't remember the last time someone used his first name. His eyes snap open.

The void is gone, and in its stead is the interior of a ship. Someone leans over him, blocking out the harsh overhead light.

It's a face he knows, a face he  _ thinks _ he knows, aching on the edge of familiar and pleasing and for the life of him he can't recall the person's name. It hits him when they speak, pulling him upright.

"Feeling alright?" Keith asks, shining a penlight in Shiro's eyes. "Exiting cryosleep is always rough, but you were taking a lot longer to come around. The others are all up already."

“I was... I was dreaming.”

"What about?" he asks with a practiced air, as though it was standard procedure or something as he presses two fingers to Shiro's pulse. Shiro didn't even know they had cryosleep technology available to them, let alone what Keith should be asking him after he woke up, but he answers just the same.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, your vitals are normal." Keith pinches his cheek with a smile. "Why don't you get up? We're getting close." There's something different about Keith, the way he carries himself. His clothes are different too, Shiro doesn't remember ever seeing that red jumpsuit in his life.

"What happened?" he asks, pulling himself out of the pod. Keith reaches out and smooths Shiro’s hair. Bedhead, he guesses.

"Oh, no, everything's fine. We dropped out of lightspeed, as planned, I just thought," he pauses, trying to choose his words carefully. "We've been away for so long, I just wanted to see it together. With you." His smile is soft, and knowing Keith, rare, so Shiro appreciates that he gets to see it.

"Shall we then?" he holds out his hand, which Shiro thinks is a little strange, but he takes it anyways and they enter the cockpit.

"Oi, Chief, we're six minutes out," Lance calls from his seat in the navigator's chair. He doesn't meet Shiro's eyes, which is strange. The nickname too, is something new, and he wants to ask about it but Keith cuts him off.

"Good! Can you get a line to command? I want to make sure they didn't forget about us." Hunk laughs at that, elbowing Pidge, but Lance’s expression is still humorless.

"I've been hailing them for a while, but haven't heard anything back. I'll keep trying though."

"That's odd, they should be expecting us. Maybe our communications are down?" 

Lance shakes his head. "I don't think so. I know we're sending out pings, because I get interference from the solar wind when they bounce back, but when I open a channel for command, I’m not getting an automated response, or a maintenance message, or anything."

"Maybe they switched frequencies and forgot to tell us? Try some other channels." Keith continues to talk shop with Lance and Shiro quickly tunes them out. The tech speak goes over his head; he was trained as a pilot, not a navigator, but he's impressed that Lance has such an impressive grasp of communication technologies.

"Hey, Quiet." Hunk calls, looking at Shiro. Confused, he points to himself, and Hunk rolls his eyes. "Yes, you. You left the cryopod on, it's really wasting coolant we need for re-entry."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll um..." Hunk looks at him expectantly.

"That's my fault Seidou!" Keith's voice is suddenly in his ear and Shiro jumps at the proximity. "I woke him up, I forgot to turn it off. Quiet, you can help me." Keith pulls him by the hand back into the room he woke up in. There's something off, but Shiro can't quite tell what. He feels strange.

"I always forget to turn these things off," Keith almost says to himself, kneeling down beside Shiro's cryopod. His hand is shaking as he punches a complicated code into the control panel.

"Are you alright?" He lets out a breath, almost a laugh, and meets Shiro's gaze. The energy and control that possessed him earlier fades as he slumps against the side of the chamber.

"Yes. No. I don't know Quiet, I'm a little scared." His voice is small, but Shiro is distracted by the nickname. Hunk had said it to him earlier too.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Right, sorry. I keep forgetting, Takashi. Force of habit, you know how hard it is for me to switch off."

That wasn’t the answer Shiro was expecting, and somehow it made him feel worse.

"I..." Keith twists his hands. He pats the ground next to him and Shiro sits. "I wanted to talk to you about this before we got back. If you're..." he sighs. Starts again.

"If you're worried about people finding out, when we get back, I understand and I'm... I'm okay with whatever makes you comfortable, whether that's keeping it secret or— or breaking it off." His voice breaks, and he inhales sharply. There are tears welling in the corners of his eyes and Shiro fights the urge to brush them away. Nothing he's saying makes any sense. "I just don't want you to worry, about what your parents will say, or anything. You worry too much as it is."

"What are you talking about?" Keith's mouth hangs open for a second, shocked.

"I'm— I'm talking about us?" His eyes flick rapidly over Shiro's face. "Takashi you're acting strangely, are you feeling okay?"

"I don't know," Shiro admits. "Everything feels a little off, but we're all okay, right? We're done, we're... going home?" Keith turns away from him, pressing his hand to his eyes.

"Yeah, we're going home," he sniffs. "I'll just... I won't say anything until you decide. But I'm going to need an answer eventually." He's angry, Shiro can tell. He knows him well enough to see that, but he doesn't know why. His brain still feels half frozen from the cryosleep, like he's missing half of what everyone is saying, and his limbs feel sluggish, strange, as though he's grown an inch overnight and hasn't acclimated yet.

"Wh—"

They both start when yells sound from the cockpit.

"Chief, you'd better get in here!" Keith immediately jumps up and dashes out of the room. Shiro follows.

 

He wishes he hadn't.

The city is destroyed. That's why they couldn't get a response from command, the city is destroyed.

They're all paralyzed in fear, shock, Shiro doesn't know because he can't feel anything because the city isn't a city anymore, it's rubble.

World War III happened while they were away, Hunk says, and Shiro can't accept that, they couldn't have been gone for that long, with Voltron, for the world to deteriorate so quickly.

The rest of the planet could be in worse shape, he doesn't even know if his parents are okay, or if the Garrison is still after him for experiments and interrogation, and he'll never find out because it's gone, it's all gone it's—

"Takashi." A low voice whispering his name brings him back to the present, and it's Keith wrapping his arms around him in a crushing embrace and Shiro tries not to completely break down, Keith is silently crying into his shoulder and he knows because he can feel the dampness on his skin.

There's nothing left to come back to.

He closes his eyes.

They snap back open too soon.

"What are those ships?!" Hunk shouts, and the cockpit is bathed in an eerie yellow light.

"Kogane, get us out of here!" Lance shouts. Keith jumps into the pilot seat and wrenches the controls, trying to break away, but it's useless. They're dead in the air, being pulled towards the unknown.

Shiro vaguely recognizes the vessel reeling them in, even through the yellow haze of the tractor beam.

His heart stops beating, frozen in panic like the rest of him. Not again. He can't live through this again, they can't take him again he just escaped and they're taking him again he can't—

It's the Galra.

Time slows to a crawl as the cargo doors open like a gaping maw, ready to swallow them whole. He barely registers that Keith has taken his hand, that he's saying something, that Pidge is hysterically crying somewhere behind him and Hunk is shouting curses at the ship. His pulse roars in his ears, panicked and quick as though his heart is trying to beat out a lifetime's worth in just a few seconds because he knows that this is it for him.

Shiro knows what's waiting for them.

Shiro can't escape this again.

Shiro shuts down.

 

 

The void has come for him again. It dances at the edge of his vision, a tangible difference in space, like a river meeting the ocean.  _ The water is different here. _

 

It’s so cold. He’s shivering.

 

It's been one night, two, maybe five, since they’ve been taken. Again. They work in the mines; the guards whip them. They fight for scraps of food, drops of water, trying to look too weak to send to the arena.

Shiro has already been here too long. He remembers too well, how to blend in, how to stay alive.

The others are angry, defiant, but Shiro can’t muster the mental strength to join them. He can barely talk, barely eat. 

Barely feel.

He knows Keith is concerned, feels his worried glances, sees how he gives up half the food he takes to try to make Shiro eat. He wishes that he could reassure him, that it’s okay, he’s been through this before.

Shiro can endure.

 

The others cannot. 

“... can't last much longer, look at him. If we're going to go, we're going now.” Hunk's whisper cuts through the thick silence of their cell. They had been conspiring for the past few days, but Shiro had only really noticed just now. He hunches further over his knees.

“We've barely had this plan for two days and you want to go _now?_ No way, they whip us for _breathing,_ and if we break out we'll be killed instantly.” Lance had bucked the most at their enslavement, receiving far too much attention from the armed guards that watched them work. His back was covered in cuts and bruises, and for the first time Shiro wished he wasn’t so headstrong. That bull-headedness was going to kill him.

“Kurogane, we don't have a choice.” Keith's voice drops even lower when he continues, but Shiro can still hear him. “Just look at him. I can’t bear to watch him waste away in here.”

Shiro glanced over his shoulder and the others hastily look away, and he realizes they were talking about  _ him.  _

Keith comes over to crouch beside him.

“We've got a plan,” Keith whispers. “We can steal a ship and get out of this place.” Shiro considers his words. The last time he escaped, there was help from the inside. The five of them are alone, but he looks at Lance’s hunched posture, feels the brand on his arm, and he knows they can’t afford to wait.

“Let's go.” His voice is rough, and he stands on shaky feet, but Keith's grip on his shoulder fills him with some kind of energy.  _ Hope, maybe,  _ he thinks.

 

They break out.

 

The ship hangar is across the compound from the prison, and they slowly crawl towards it, dodging searchlights and guard patrols.

The pace is torturously slow and every minute they spend pressed into the ground as the light passes over them Shiro is sure they will be discovered and sent to the arena blindfolded and defenseless to be killed as examples.

They aren’t.

 

There are two guards posted outside the hangar, half-asleep, and it’s almost comically easy to slip past them.

Inside, they aren’t so lucky.

Shiro doesn’t realize that they’re surrounded until the doors start to close, trapping them inside before they can reach the ships. Keith pulls him through at the last second, and it feels like he’s jumped into cold water. The haze slips from his mind.

Shiro feels awake, and he feels afraid.

The first wave of guards go down easy, but the second comes too fast and the third is right on their heels.

“We’re running out of time!” he shouts, and Keith grabs his hand and runs. The others follow, he hopes.

They don’t have time to look back.

They stumble into the ship and he jumps into the pilot seats with Keith, and hears a shout from behind them.

“Get the doors closed, we’re on,  _ go! _ ”

“Do you clowns even know how this thing works?” Lance groans, settling into a chair.

“I can fly anything, Kurogane,” and there’s humor in Keith’s voice but his face is grim, trying to work out the launch sequence by strategically pressing buttons. “I scored higher than you in flight school.” Shiro can tell he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing, and takes the lead. Something passes between them when their gazes meet, an understanding of sorts. Shiro doesn’t know what it means. He punches the ignition.

The sudden acceleration presses all of them tightly into their seatbacks. Keith grabs the throttle, but Shiro can tell his trajectory is off.

“Keith, pull  _ up _ ! We’re going to hit the—” One of the castle towers crumbles against the hull. The dying screams of slaves are so faint Shiro isn’t sure if it’s just his imagination.

“We’ve got a tail,” Hunk warns. Shiro sees the blips of “friendly” ships on the radar. “Get to battle stations.”

“We can’t fight, are you  _ crazy?  _ We need to get out of here and we need to get out of here  _ now _ .” Lance demands.

“Up there,” Keith points out of the viewscreen to a violent swirling mass of dust. Bright flashes of electricity randomly light up the clouds. “We can lose them in that lightning storm.” Shiro meets his eyes.

“Be careful,” he says, not really knowing why. 

“You know I will be,” Keith says with a smile. There’s a second where he moves toward Shiro in slow motion, and Shiro thinks that he’s going to whisper something to him.

Shiro misjudges the trajectory of Keith’s lips.

Longing, fear, and something else that makes his heart beat almost  _ painfully  _ seem to flow from the contact of Keith’s mouth on his. The kiss is over in a second, probably even less, but Shiro’s mouth burns for decades afterwards, that tiny sliver of a moment stretching beyond his experience of time. Shiro doesn’t know what makes his chest tighten and burn, but he’s sure he shouldn’t be feeling whatever it is.

Buffeted by winds and gravity, the stolen slave ship enters the vortex.

“The storm is messing with the systems, I can’t get a good reading on anything.” Lance still manages to sound haughty, even through his obvious terror. “Do we actually have a destination in mind? Or are we just going to fly around—!”

A blinding flash of light cuts him off and sparks explode out of the ship’s control panels, before everything goes dark.

 

They’re spiraling, spinning too fast. Flashes of light illuminate the cockpit and Keith’s terrified expression beside him.

_ They’re going to crash. _

There’s a planet in the distance, rapidly approaching, and Shiro isn’t sure if they’ll even survive entry through the atmosphere. The ship is dead, he pulls on the controls but it’s useless, and Keith reaches out to take this hand.

The touch stirs something in him, and maybe it’s because they are about to die, maybe it’s the g-force making him lightheaded, but Shiro loses control of himself. A strangely familiar presence makes his muscles contract and his limbs move, and he can see his body, face screwed up in discomfort, he’s being pulled back in but he can feel his mouth move on its own, he can see his face turn towards Keith. Pinned to his seat, Keith desperately reaches out, placing the palm of his hand against Shiro's cheek, and Shiro's body meets his gaze and his lips are moving beyond his control, to say one thing before he blacks out and they die alone in space:

"I'm sorry, Akira."

A single tear rolls down Keith's cheek and sparkles in the yellow light that suddenly fills the cockpit.

The ship stabilizes in the tractor beam, and their descent through the atmosphere becomes controlled.

A wretched sigh of relief tears from Shiro's throat as he slams back into his body. Pidge begins to laugh hysterically with Hunk.

Keith doesn't look at him, tears streaming down his face.

"What is that? There, in the distance?" Pidge says. A structure rises out of the fog as they near the surface.

"It's a castle!"

They all saw it. A mysterious castle, a lion statue, and two humanoid figures deep in the mountains of the mysterious planet.

The tractor beam flickers and dies, and the stolen ship crashes into the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm talking about quantum realities here. Cracks initiate space-time temporal fissures, which mathematically make higher probabilities for alternate realities..._ —Slav, _Escape from Beta Traz_
> 
> Big thank you to [Pugglemuggle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle) for letting me scream at her non-stop for three months.  
> I'm on [tumblr](http://lacksley.tumblr.com).


	2. phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The smoke makes his eyes water and he tries to shout for help, if anyone else even survived, but he chokes, lungs full of ash and he can feel the encroaching heat threatening to lick at his wounds._
> 
>  
> 
> Episode 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest thing I've ever written.

_ I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl. _

  
  
  


The burning pain in Shiro’s arm is what finally makes him shiver into awareness. His lungs expand to draw breath and immediately spasm as he chokes on the smoke permeating the air.

_ Why is there smoke why is there pain why—  _

He remembers. The ship crashed.

_ They escaped. _

Shiro tries to stand, move, and he recognizes the burning pain in his right arm: twisted metal pins him in place. Part of it has sliced into his arm and every rasping cough drives it deeper. The smoke makes his eyes water and he tries to shout for help,  _ if anyone else even survived, _ but he chokes, lungs full of ash and he can  _ feel  _ the encroaching heat threatening to lick at his wounds.

He can hear movements somewhere around him, mumbling voices and creaking metal, and Shiro wants to call out, scream for them to save him but he can’t, he  _ can’t he can’t— _

The alien sun hits his face in a pure beam of light, and shadowy figures pull him from the wreckage of the slave ship.

 

The void has come back for him, and this time he can’t close his eyes.

There’s nothing but blackness, nothing to touch, no breeze to feel. Shiro’s head throbs, and he moves to clutch at the stabbing pain in his skull but his right hand isn’t metal, it’s  _ flesh _ and his eyes are pulled to an image that suddenly appears.

Another person— _ no _ —a reflection.  _ His  _ reflection, but the man he sees is not the one he’s used to seeing in the mirror. The line of his jaw is heavy, his hair is long and black and his face is unscarred, smooth and serious and his hands lower with Shiro’s own.

“Shiro,” the reflection utters, in a voice that is not quite his own, and reaches his right hand out. Unconsciously Shiro does the same. He can feel the presence of the reflection’s fingertips with his own, they’re almost touching, and Shiro—

 

—wakes up, gasping for breath. The air is clear and hot and Hunk smiles from his place at Shiro’s side.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, holding out a small cup of water. Shiro takes it, grateful and dehydrated.

“Like I was in a bad plane crash,” he finally responds. “How long was I out?” Hunk shrugs.

“Maybe a few hours, I dunno. Don’t have a watch or anything but the sun hasn’t moved very far.” 

“The others?”

“Out looking for supplies in the wreckage. We crashed in a desert.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” 

Hunk gestures to his leg. “It looks fine but I can tell you it is  _ definitely  _ broken. Chief and Shorty only have a few scratches, and Moody’s eye popped out but he managed to poke it back in himself.” He shudders. “I’m not sure if I could have done that if it had been me.”

“I guess we’re pretty lucky, surviving with so few injuries.” Shiro peers out of the makeshift shelter in the shadow of the crashed ship. Then he turns back to Hunk. “Wait, Chief? Moody? Who are you talking about?”

“Jeez, Quiet, don’t tell me you have brain damage too.  _ Chief, Moody,  _ you know, Kogane and Kurogane?” Hunk’s inflection suddenly makes Shiro’s legs feel weaker.

“H-how…” he swallows thickly, mind racing. “You’re speaking Japanese?” Hunk’s mouth hangs open in obvious confusion, color rising in his sallow cheeks.

“Yes…? I’m a Japanese man aren’t I? Quiet are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?” Shiro waves his hand away.

“I can see just  _ fine,  _ Hunk, but how long—”

“You—” he interrupts, and then glares at the space directly to the left of Shiro’s head. A hand suddenly covers Shiro’s shoulder and he jerks back to see Keith and the others have returned.

“Good to see you’re finally up, Quiet. How is he, Hothead?” 

Hunk frowns, shifting his grip on his leg. 

“Weird, Chief. He asked if I was speaking Japanese, like he’s ever heard me saying anything else.” Keith meets Shiro’s gaze.

“Quiet?” he begins, tentatively, squatting down so they’re eye-level. “Do you remember what happened five minutes ago?”

Shiro meets his gaze nervously. “I was talking to Hunk. Before that I don’t remember, I was unconscious.”

“Who is Hunk?” Shiro’s breath catches, and a sudden jolt of anxiety pierces his chest, because Keith sounds  _ so sincere _ . There’s not a hint of playfulness in his face.

“Hunk?” Shiro responds, pointing to  _ Hunk,  _ sitting right next to him, with his orange headband and leg injury.

“Quit talking nonsense! You know my name, asshole!” Hunk reaches over and grabs Shiro by the collar, shaking his fist.

“That  _ is  _ your name! That’s all I’ve ever called you!” Shiro never expected such a harsh reaction from  _ Hunk _ , of all people.

“Seidou! Let him go. You’re both injured,” Keith commands, and Hunk relaxes his grip. “We’re  _ all  _ injured, and we hit the surface pretty hard when the ship crashed. I don’t think it’s out of the question that we all received some sort of concussion, which can cause temporary confusion and memory loss. So Seidou,” Keith glares, “cool off. I mean it. Quiet, if you’re confused, just ask. We all need to work together if we want to survive.” Hunk grumbles an affirmative.

“We found some stuff to make a splint for your leg, Hothead!” Pidge pipes up, holding up pieces of metal and cloth.

“Oh, good job! I can stop sitting around like a baby now.” Keith kneels down with Pidge to get to work setting Hunk’s leg. Shiro looks away to find Lance staring at him, one eye red and swollen.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he responds hastily, ducking back out of the shelter.

“Hey—!” Shiro makes to follow him but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back.

“Not so fast! We found enough cloth to make a better pressure bandage for your arm, hold still.” Keith’s firm hand on his bicep holds him in place. Shiro hadn’t even realized he was injured, but the pain registers as soon as the blood soaked bandage is peeled away. He feels a puff of hot air on his neck as Keith sighs in relief.

“It looks like the bleeding is starting to slow down, that’s good.” Shiro barely notices Pidge helping Hunk wobble to his feet and exit the shelter. “I was worried that it was too deep and you were going to bleed out.”

“All things considered, I actually don’t feel that bad.” Shiro’s tone is light, and he winces as Keith tightens the new bandage.

“Overall? Or just physically?”

“What—” Keith stands, throwing the old bandage into the dirt with shaking hands.

“Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about this, I know we’re not out of the woods yet, but I really…” Keith takes a shaky breath. “I was so  _ worried  _ about you in the prison, Takashi. You were all but catatonic, and I just…” He sniffs. “I want to make sure that, if you’re not okay, you’ll at least talk to me.” Shiro can tell that he’s fighting back tears and it makes his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“I will, Keith. I promise,” and maybe Shiro said the wrong thing because Keith exhales a bubble of laughter.

“Okay, I need to talk to you about that. Where is that coming from?”

“Where is what coming from?” Shiro didn’t think what he said was that strange. He’d made promises before, and kept them.

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that, what did that come from?”

“Wait,  _ Keith? _ You’re asking why I’m calling you by name?” Keith moves in suddenly, prying open Shiro’s left eyelids and staring intently.

“Maybe you took more damage than we thought…” he mutters, almost to himself, then shakes his head and sits back. “You think my name is Keith.”

“Judging by your reaction, I’m starting to think that’s not the case.” He lets out a quick breath, what might have almost been a laugh.

“No, it’s not. Maybe you’re feeling disoriented from the concussion, but I’m not going to make fun of you to satisfy my petty anger.” He takes both of Shiro’s hands and looks him straight in the eyes. “Kogane Akira.”

It’s a gut-punch, because even with his friends speaking Japanese and being captured by the Galra again, even with the plane crash and his right arm being flesh again, the last person he wanted to be different was Keith.

Hearing him confirm a different name really cements the feeling that something is very  _ very  _ wrong about all of this.

“Takashi?” and his voice breaks Shiro out of his panicked thoughts.

“I…” Shiro swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I was expecting, I just… I  _ really  _ thought… ” Keith—Akira—regards him seriously.

“...that you were Keith,” he finishes lamely.

“I don’t know where you got ‘Keith’ from, honestly. It did piss me off a bit, you remember how long I had to work on you to get you to use my first name.” There’s a twinge of nostalgia in Akira’s eyes that Shiro doesn’t share.

“...I, uh, don’t. Actually.” Shiro feels like a kid caught in a lie, but it’s honestly the truth. He doesn’t remember Keith— _ Akira _ —pestering him to call him such. That faraway look leaves in an instant. Akira frowns.

“You don’t—?” he sighs heavily. “...it’s probably temporary. None of us are in a good state of mind, we need real medical care.”

“I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“I saw a castle before we crashed. Even if no one lives there, it’ll be more protected, and a less obvious hiding place.” Pidge enters the shelter at that moment—dropping an exhausted Hunk in the sand—and holds up a hand in self-defense.

“I swear I didn’t break him, he tired  _ himself  _ out.”

 

Hours later, when the sun passed its peak intensity, the small group made their way toward the mountains in hope of finding the mysterious castle.

By the time it’s too dark to see, they’ve made a small camp in the forest that the mountains bled into. Hunk— _ no, it’s Seidou _ —starts off a chain of yawns that ends with Shiro volunteering to stay up and keep watch, because he was the only one that  _ didn’t  _ yawn.

The camp slips into a pleasant quiet, the crackling of the fire and invisible humming of insects providing a comforting white noise, but Shiro still feels slightly uneasy. A flash of movement at the edge of the firelight makes him jump, but it’s just Lance. Shiro doesn’t know what his real name is—they didn’t speak at all during their trek to the mountains—but his stare is unnerving.

“Is there a problem?” Shiro whispers, and Lance rolls his eyes. He turns over, as if he was going to sleep, and then a few moments later sits back up with a sour expression.

Lance skirts around the campfire and sits directly next to Shiro. He seemingly struggles with his words for a minute or so, and then lets out a heavy sigh.

“I didn't want to say anything in front of the others, but I think I know what's wrong with you.” Shiro stiffens. “You think maybe you’re concussed, that you just forgot and it’ll come back to you in a day or two, that your memory is wrong.” Lance swallows, nervously.

“But you have such a  _ clear  _ picture in your head and it's not what's in front of you _.  _ Everything is familiar, but it's different. Names are different, language is different, people are different. Are you following me?” Shiro nods, suspicious. Lance was talking out every point of anxiety Shiro had been experiencing in the past 48 hours, things he hadn’t brought up with anyone.

“I knew it when you called Seidou ‘Hunk’ today. Maybe this is going to sound crazy, but just…  _ hear  _ me out, okay?” 

Shiro nods. “What are you getting at?”

“Okay so, one day you just… you just woke up and noticed things were different, right?” Shiro nods again. Lance scratches the back of his head.

“And you probably think my name is Lance, right?” 

“I did, but I’m inclined to think that’s wrong, since I didn’t remember Akira’s name, or Seidou’s.” Lance looks like he hadn’t been expecting that answer.

He fumbles with his next words.

“Yeah, um, geez. I don’t really have a better way to say this, but… okay, so, have you ever thought about parallel universes?” Shiro thinks of Beta Traz, of Slav, and the alien's overwhelming fear of his actions affecting alternate realities.

“I'm open to the idea.”

“I think you're in one. I’ve been to one too. At least I think I have. There are memories of you, well,  _ this  _ you, the one from here. Quiet. But you weren't the same, you were someone else.” Lance clicks his tongue in frustration, and Shiro realizes he’s switched to English. “Everything kind of looked the same, but also different. It was better, there wasn't this much pain.  _ Ugh _ , I can’t find the right  _ words _ —!”

“You—”

“I know I’m from here, originally. But when I was there I found myself able to understand English.” Lance sighs, shifting to lie on his back. “They called me Lance, but there your name was Sven, and you were a foreigner.”

“How did you get there? No, wait, how did you get back?” Lance shrugs.

“I just… woke up, here. I thought for the longest time it was some crazy dream, but it was so  _ real. _ And when  _ you  _ came here, I knew it was real. Maybe the other me came back to himself and pushed me out, I don't know. If you want to get back, all you can do is wait, I guess.” They're both quiet for a long moment. Shiro runs a hand over his face. He's starting to get a headache.

“I suppose I have no reason to think you're lying,” he sighs into his palm. “How do I even process this? That I'm in a parallel universe?”

“By the time I got used to it I came back, so I guess I can only tell you one thing: be honest. Don't try to pretend to be the person who used to be here, you’ll just make everything worse.” Lance sits up, his expression darkening. “Don't try to be Quiet.”

“What? What do you mean, 'don't try to be quiet’?”

“‘Quiet’ was our nickname for Shirogane. But you're not him, so I'm not going to call you that.”

“Oh, so that’s— that’s why you all kept saying that to me, it wasn’t a command.”

“No, it wasn’t.” They sit awkwardly for a minute, until Lance speaks again. “So, what’s your name?”

“Takashi Shirogane, but that’s the same as Quiet, isn’t it? You can call me Shiro. That's what they call me back… wherever I came from.” Lance nods, and moves to return to his spot across camp. Shiro stops him.

“Wait, Lance—er…”

“Kurogane. Kurogane Isamu.”

“Thank you, Kurogane,” he corrects. “The others, do they know about any of this?” Kurogane sighs.

“No, they don't know. After I came back, I tried to talk to Kogane about it, but he just didn't understand.” He snorts. “He's actually pretty oblivious when it comes to people. That's why  _ you  _ have to talk to him, let him know you aren't Quiet. I’ll tell the others.”

“What? Why me? You’re from this universe, you know him better than I do.”

Kurogane scoffs. “I already told you, he didn’t believe me before, and he definitely wouldn’t believe me now, especially since it’s  _ you. _ ”

“What is it about me that’s so special?” 

Lance—Kurogane—stares at him.

“You haven't  _ noticed? _ ” Shiro shakes his head. “Jeez, you really  _ are  _ thick.”

“What are you talking about?” Kurogane manages to take on a haughty expression, even with his swollen eye. He crosses his arms and looks away.

“He's in love with you, idiot.” Shiro's mouth hangs open. The words pass through him, his mind blank.

“Well, I guess not  _ you.  _ He and Quiet were….  _ together. _ ”

“I— oh…” Shiro doesn’t really know what to think. “... that explains a lot, actually.” Shiro can’t be sure if it’s a trick of the light, but he thinks Kurogane might be blushing.

“Well, now you know.” Now his voice is haughty too. “I'm going to sleep.” He crosses around the fire and settles back in his spot with a huff. Shiro doesn’t hear anything for the rest of the night.

 

What must be a few hours before dawn, Akira wakes and offers to trade watch with Shiro.

“You need to sleep too, you know.”

“Okay, okay, you twisted my arm,” and the joke makes Akira let out a quiet laugh. It’s a little strange, Shiro thinks, that Akira is so easy to talk to. They barely know each other.

Shiro settles on the ground, trying to get comfortable in the dirt. He tries to roll over and lands on his right arm, the deep cut throbbing painfully at the added pressure, and he hisses in pain and sits back up.

“Your arm…?” Akira asks, looking concerned.

“I’m okay, just rolled on top of it.” Akira nods and Shiro turns away, his back to the fire to stare out into the darkness of the surrounding forest.

He still can’t sleep, and knowing Akira is awake, knowing he’s  _ right there  _ fills Shiro with guilt. He should be talking to him, telling him the truth, because Shiro knows the longer he waits to do so the more painful it will be for both of them.

He sits back up.

“Akira, I… I wanted to tell you something.” Akira jumps a little at his words, breaking out of his fire-gazing trance.

“What is it?” he asks, scooting closer to Shiro.  _ So they can speak more quietly,  _ he thinks.  _ Obviously. _

“I, uh…” and that’s about as far into the conversation as he had planned out. Akira takes his hand, gently, and traces a pattern along the back with his thumb. “Well, I’m… not sure how to say this, but…”

Shiro meets his eyes at that moment and all thoughts fly from his head, because maybe he really has gone crazy, maybe his concussion has gotten worse but he swears in that moment he can see what  _ Quiet  _ must see when he looks at Akira. A person he cares about. A person he loves.

A person he would  _ never  _ want to hurt.

So Shiro chickens out. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Akira smiles and squeezes his hand. “Me too. We all made it, and I’ll never forget how lucky we’ve been.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheek.

“Try to get some sleep, Takashi.”

Shiro settles in the dirt once more, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

 

It’s like staring into a mirror. The same reflection again, but this time Shiro knows that it’s Quiet there, right in front of him, and when he raises his right hand— _ metal again _ —Quiet does the same.  

“Are you… here? Have you come back?” Quiet shakes his head, and reaches out. Shiro's hand follows, but where he expects to meet Quiet’s fingertips there’s just… nothing.

An impenetrable barrier between them.

“Something has to happen. Another event, to trigger the change. I can only reach you through dreams.” Even Quiet’s voice sounds eerily like his own.

“Then…”

“You don't want to be where I am. I can handle it. You need to stay safe, you need to protect Akira. Protect all of them.”

“Quiet…”

“Don't worry, Shiro. We'll get through this.” His reflection begins to shimmer and fade, and Shiro reaches out, slams his fist against the solid air separating them, and wakes up.

 

The alien sun cuts blindingly through the treetops, somehow making its way past the canopy to shine directly into Shiro’s eyes.

The others are awake already, and Akira insists on changing his arm bandage before they set out. The forest is thick and dark, but Akira keeps pressing on, determined, and Shiro can’t help but admire his tenacity. They could be going in the wrong direction, but Akira doesn’t doubt himself for a second.

It pays off, and the forest clears to the sight of the old castle, perched on top of a steep hill.

“Be prepared for anything,” Akira cautions as they approach the moat. A tall tower straddling the bridge beckons for them to enter, and from the top a statue of a lion stares down at them, shiny black stone contrasting with the blue sky.

Some small part of Shiro thinks that maybe… maybe it’s calling to him.

He shakes away those thoughts as they reach the end of the bridge, and it becomes very obvious that the castle is in an extreme state of disrepair. Crumbled battlements litter the once-elegant courtyard with massive stones.

“I didn’t realize it was so…” Akira seems shaken.

“Broken? Crappy? A waste of our time?” Kurogane interrupts, kicking a loose stone out of the dirt. “That thing is barely staying together, we can’t go  _ in  _ there, one wrong step and it’ll crush us!”

“Oi, Moody, we came all this way, we’ve got to at least check it out.” Seidou elbows him.

Akira turns to Shiro. “What do you think we should do?”

He doesn’t think they have much of a choice. The Galra are probably still looking for them, and they’ll be too vulnerable in the woods. This is the only semi-intact structure they’ve seen anywhere, and if there are hostile natives inside, three of them can still fight.

“Even if the devil himself lives in that castle, we have to go. We don’t have time to hesitate.”

He’s rewarded with a smile from Akira. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Quiet. Let’s go.” Akira starts up the long flight of stairs, pulling Seidou along with him and Suzuishi not far behind. Shiro moves to follow them but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back.

“Shiro, what was  _ that _ ?” Kurogane hisses. “Kogane called you  _ Quiet,  _ has it really grown on you that much?”

“No, I… He doesn’t know yet.” Shiro’s guilt from the early morning comes rushing back full force, and Kurogane’s expression grows more incredulous.

“You haven’t  _ told  _ him?!”

“I—I didn’t have time—” Shiro sputters, and Kurogane grips his shoulders angrily.

“You had  _ all night! _ ” he squawks, shaking Shiro as if it would make him come to his senses. He pulls out of Kurogane’s grip.

“Look, if you’re going to insist on making me do this, you don’t get to complain about when it happens, okay? Why are you so upset anyways?” Color floods Kurogane’s face.

“I—it’s none of your concern! We’re a team, we have to work together, whatever!” He bolts up the stairs before Shiro can say anymore.

 

The castle doors open to a dark, musty foyer. It’s too dark to see, really, and even darker when the doors suddenly close on their own.

_ It’s a trap,  _ Shiro thinks.  _ We walked right into the Galra’s hands. _

But the old man that appears with a cane and a candlestick seems oddly human.

“I’m not your enemy,” he cautions. “We’ve waited for you for what feels like an eternity.”

“Are you with the Galra? Are you here to capture us again?” Akira demands, falling into a defensive stance. The old man spits on the ground.

“The Galra are no friend of Altea. Fifteen years ago they razed this kingdom to the ground for the sake of their  _ empire, _ and the few of us that survived have gone into hiding. Now that you’re here, we can finally begin to fight back.”

The rational part of Shiro’s brain reminds him that this isn’t his reality, that these aren’t his friends, but hearing  _ Altea _ sets him on edge.  _ This planet is what Allura and Coran lost. _

“Why were you waiting for us?” Seidou growls.

“News of rebellion travels fast across the nebula. You five escaped the slave castle right under the emperor’s nose! A beacon of hope for those stuck under the thumb of Daibazaal.” Shiro can see the old man’s hands are trembling, but it’s unclear if it’s from anxiety or old age.

Kurogane scoffs at the remark. “And what do you expect us to do about it? We’re injured and starving, the five of us can’t just go storm his castle.” The old man’s face darkens.

A clear voice rings out from the darkness. “Even in the most dire situations, people find a way to survive.”

A young woman appears at the top of the staircase, clad in a shimmering pink dress.

“Princess Fala!” the old man gasps. She descends the staircase, casting a harsh gaze on each of them individually, and when her eyes land on Shiro it shakes him to his core.

He can tell, just from her eyes, that she will kill them if they get in her way.

“Fifteen years ago my parents and my planet were killed by Daibazaal’s forces. I have sworn revenge, and with your aid, I will get it.”

“Again, why would you want a handful of dehydrated refugees help you fight a war?” Kurogane sounds dismissive. The princess laughs at him.

“It was fate. Had the black lion not chosen you, the crash landing of your ship would have killed you. Something caused it to reactivate, and I intend to use whatever that is to crush the Galra empire and free every planet under its rule.”

“The black lion?” Shiro blurts. The princess turns her gaze on him, and Shiro holds it. If Voltron exists in this universe too, then maybe the wormhole technology also exists here. There might be away for him to travel back home.

“You’ve heard of Golion?” There’s the slightest hint of surprise in her voice.

“No, we haven’t…” Akira gives Shiro a curious glance. The old man speaks up.

“Golion was a reckless robot, bloodthirsty and desperately hungry for power. It sought out the most powerful beings in the universe to fight, but was never satisfied. In its arrogance, it challenged the goddess of space to battle, and lost. Or so the legend goes.” He pauses to heave a rasping cough. The princess lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Raible, don’t exert yourself.” The old man waves off her concern.

“I’m fine, princess.” Raible straightens, and tightens his grip on his cane. “The goddess split Golion into five parts, lions of different colors that fell down to Altea. They became guardian deities for the ancient Alteans, and more recently, our only defense against the Galra empire. When Daibazaal attacked, Golion stood its ground until the Galra withdrew. Now that you’re here, we can begin to fight back once more.” Kurogane clicks his tongue.

“I still don’t understand, why would you want five strangers using your most powerful weapon? You don’t know anything about us at all! We could be—”

“Hope,” the princess interrupts. “You five are the only ones to have survived escaping the slave castle. When word spreads—and it will—that the slaves that escaped the Galra’s most fortified prison are piloting the most powerful weapon in the universe, everyone suffering under Daibazaal’s rule will know that it is possible to defy him.” She levels a sharp glare at Kurogane. “That is why we need you.”

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, shocked, before Seidou delivers a swift elbow to his side.

“We don’t have much of a choice, Kurogane,” Shiro says. “Since we escaped, we’re the worst offenders in the empire: traitors. If we don’t fight back, we may as well lay down and die.”

“Princess, our home planet was destroyed by our own species’ greed.” Akira clenches his fists. “The Galra gave us no time to mourn before we were captured. We’ve got nothing of our own left to fight for, so we’ll fight for you.” He kneels, pressing his fist to his heart. “We’ll fight so that this doesn’t happen to anyone else.” 

Shiro kneels as well, and the others follow. It’s an oath, he thinks. They’ve become the knights of a ruthless princess on a phantom planet in a different universe. 

He feels something surging through him, an impact resonating in his chest like a cannon blast, and the castle around him spits dust and loose stone as it trembles and creaks with the tremors. The faint scent of ozone reaches his nose.

“They found us,” he whispers, and Akira places a steadying hand on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I can't remember! There are infinite possibilities!... I can already feel myself not being able to breathe. My lungs are filling with water._ —Slav, _Escape from Beta Traz_
> 
> A quick guide, surname followed by first name:  
> Kurogane Isamu - "Lance"  
> Seidou Tsuyoshi - "Hunk"  
> Suzuishi Hiroshi- "Pidge"  
> Kogane Akira - "Keith"
> 
> [Pugglemuggle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle) is my rock and I honestly don't know what I'd do without her.  
> I'm on [tumblr](http://lacksley.tumblr.com).


	3. keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wants to say something reassuring, because he’s done this before, but not like this. Everything feels different and Shiro isn’t sure he’s going to feel safe inside the black lion, because if Golion is as different from Voltron as Akira is from Keith, he’s going to have a lot of problems._   
>  _They have to fight now, before the Galra reach the castle, and there’s no time to practice or acclimatize or even introduce himself._
> 
> Episode 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning, this chapter contains some disturbing content. If you'd like to skip that, when you reach "Nothing happens" skip ahead (ctrl+F) to "'You're going to hurt him'".

_ And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get him to swap our places… _

  
  
  


Shiro should have been expecting this. Five slaves escaped from prison undetected, stole a transport ship and flew straight through a lightning storm. The debris from the crash was a massive red flag, a blinking banner shouting “we’re here, come take us!” It was only a matter of time for the Galra to find them, and it was a miracle they’d been able to make it to the castle at all. The rational part of his brain keeps telling him this, telling him not to be afraid.

The panic gripping his heart disagrees.

The princess leads them to a hidden safe room that is a contradiction to the crumbling exterior of the castle. Shiro focuses on memorizing the layout of the room, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat. The stark white wall panels are almost blinding, blinking lights and flashing monitors covering almost every available surface.

“This is Golion’s control room,” the princess explains, hurrying to a massive console in the center of the room. The main viewscreen flickers to life, showing various exterior views of the castle and the planet. Shiro convinces himself to become mechanical: stand, listen, look, ignore the massive army in the desert that flickers to life on the viewscreen. 

“The Galra army is here,” the princess says. She’s clearly trying to keep her composure, bunching the skirt of her dress in her fists. “You five will need to take Golion and drive them off, before they find the castle.” 

“Princess,” Kurogane starts. “You know we can’t fight, Tsuyoshi and Shiro are injured. We don’t even know how to  _ control _ Golion!”

The princess pinches the bridge of her nose. “We don’t have the luxury of deciding  _ when  _ we get to fight.” Her voice is even, but her tone grows harsh. “If you don’t go out there and fight the enemy, people will die.  _ You  _ will die, because if you give up now our chances of winning are  _ nothing _ . The lions will protect you.  _ Golion  _ will protect you, and you will know what to do.” Kurogane’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. Raible appears with a box and offers it to Akira.

“You’ll need to put these on,” he explains. Akira grasps the white fabric spilling over the side of the box.

“What is it?” he asks, pulling free a red and white jumpsuit.

“Combat uniforms,” Raible grimly replies. A bright red helmet follows the jumpsuit, and a sudden pang of homesickness hits Shiro. The paladin uniforms. He sees a flash of black and reaches for it, taking the almost-familiar black uniform from the box. The design is different, meant more for mobility than protection. He can’t help but feel faintly ridiculous pulling on the high-heeled boots. Akira gives him a fraying smile.

“Black suits you,” and Shiro might have flushed at the compliment, if he wasn’t so obviously dreading the coming fight. He wants to say something reassuring, because he’s done this before, but not like this. Everything feels different and Shiro isn’t sure he’s going to feel safe inside the black lion, because if Golion is as different from Voltron as Akira is from Keith, he’s going to have a lot of problems.

They have to fight  _ now,  _ before the Galra reach the castle, and there’s no time to practice or acclimatize or even  _ introduce  _ himself.

“We're ready, princess. Take us to Golion.” Akira sweeps his hair up into the bright red helmet, and Shiro feels a pang of homesickness hit him. All five of them are dressed in the same colors as his home universe.  _ I want to go back,  _ he thinks.  _ I want to see them again. _

_ I want to survive this. _

“Raible, prepare for launch. I’ll retrieve the keys.” The princess moves to leave the control room, and Suzuishi shouts in frustration.

“Now we need  _ keys?  _ I can’t take this anymore, I’m going out there  _ now! _ ” He dashes from the room, a blur of green and white.

“Shorty!” Seidou calls, but the heavy door swings shut with a resounding crack. “Damn it, he's going to get himself killed.”

“All the more reason for haste,” the princess replies. Another distant rumble shakes the castle, as if to illustrate her point.

“We’ll go with you, Princess. Seidou, stay here and gather your strength,” Akira orders, and the commanding tone of his voice causes a strange twinge in Shiro’s gut. If Akira is an alternate version of Keith, does Keith have this potential in him? Was Shiro right, trusting him with leading Voltron? Seidou’s reply shakes him out of his thoughts.

“You got it, Chief.” The princess shares a look with Raible, and then starts down the corridor at a terrifying pace. Kurogane scrambles after her, hopping on one foot trying to pull his other boot on. 

Akira sighs. “Let’s go.”

The princess is already far ahead of them, and Shiro speeds up his pace to match but Akira doesn’t. Falling back, Shiro gives Akira a look.

“Everything okay?”

Another deep rumble shakes the castle, and Akira grabs his hand. The touch is almost soothing, a reminder that he’s not alone. Even though Shiro is going to face the Galra again in a strange universe with his friends that aren’t really his friends, he’s not alone.

“Everything’s fine,” Akira replies hastily. “Golion is the most powerful weapon in the universe, we’re going to make it out of here.” Under his breath, he adds, “We’re not going to die.” It’s almost a mantra, and he doesn’t seem to be saying it to reassure Shiro.

“Are you scared?” he asks softly, lightly squeezing Akira’s hand. They round the corner and gain sight of the princess, still far ahead of them. Her quiet conversation with Kurogane echoes down the corridor.

“A little bit.” Akira drifts to a stop and frowns. “We  _ just  _ escaped and they’ve already found us. I don’t want to be taken again.” He lets out a sharp exhale, voice steady but Shiro can see his shoulders just barely trembling. “I don’t want you to go back there.”

“Hey, that’s not going to happen. We’re going to fight to make sure it doesn’t.” Shiro squeezes Akira’s hand again, trying to be comforting and scrambling for something else to say to reassure him. “Golion is powerful, we’re not going to lose.”

“How do you know?” His voice wavers by an  _ infinitesimal  _ amount and he looks up, there are tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and Shiro’s heart jumps in his throat.  _ His face is so close  _ and part of Shiro screams for him to tell the truth right there, because maybe they  _ won’t  _ come back from this. The rest of him wants to do something incredibly stupid like  _ kiss  _ him until he’s not afraid anymore. It’s a deeper urge, he can feel it in the center of his chest like a heavy stone and his hands automatically reach out to cup Akira’s face.

“You can trust me, right?”

“Always,” he responds, breathless.

“We’re going to survive this. I promise.” Shiro brushes away the tear that drops down Akira’s cheek, and notices another clinging to his eyelashes. He can feel a hot puff of air on his cheek.

“Okay,” Akira whispers, giving Shiro a small smile, and suddenly Shiro feels like he’s floating above himself again, his body is moving on its own  _ but it’s not, he’s in control, he’s not in control, he’s  _ leaning in and the tip of his nose ghosts along Akira’s cheek, damp from the tear tracks and Shiro can hear Akira’s breath hitch and he closes the gap.

Akira’s arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer and squeezing him tight and Shiro tries to commit to memory the soft feeling of Akira’s mouth on his in case this  _ is  _ the last time. He’s never felt so at home in anyone’s arms and when a soft noise escapes Akira’s throat he’s instantly reminded that this kiss wasn’t his to take. He  _ really  _ shouldn’t have done that.

He’s not Quiet,  _ he’s not Quiet. _

Shiro pulls away, out of Akira’s arms. He can’t meet his eyes.

“We should get going,” and Shiro coughs, awkwardly, adjusting his shoulder pauldrons. “They’re probably waiting for us,” he offers lamely, turning away towards the distant sounds of footsteps in the corridor. His whole body feels tense, as though he were preparing for a fight, and he is, but not the kind he feels wreaking havoc on his insides.

“Takashi?” Akira calls, still frozen in place, but Shiro can’t look back, not with the way he said his name. Something tells him that if he did he would get himself into a lot more trouble than he already was. Akira catches up after a few seconds, staying just a step behind, and the twisted feeling of guilt in Shiro’s gut tightens.

The princess leads them deep into the castle, deeper than Shiro thought it was possible to go. He can sense Akira trying to catch his eye, but Shiro stares resolutely ahead. Defeating the Galra is more important than confronting whatever came over him back in the corridor, and if they die in this fight it won’t be of any use trying to fix things in the precious little time they have left.

They enter a cavernous room, so deep darkness fills the void below the small footbridge that leads to an egg-shaped glass elevator. Twinkling lights cover the walls and blur into streaks as they descend.

“My father was building this castle to defend against the Galra. It was going to be our secret weapon, to defeat Daibazaal, but the control room and this passage are all he was able to complete before he was murdered.”  The princess’ voice is steady, but Shiro can see the way her hands clutch at her skirts in barely restrained anger. A movement in his peripheral catches his eye and his gaze makes contact with Akira’s reflection in the glass. A jolt of anxiety pierces his stomach and he looks away, down at his flesh hands gripping the handrail. A stone floor comes into view as they reach the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Gilded doors mark the entrance, and Shiro doesn’t know what to expect behind them. A treasury room, maybe, or an armory, to hold the keys to the most powerful weapon in the universe.

Instead, it’s a tomb. A gilded casket lies in the center of the room, carved with the cross insignia Shiro had seen on the outside of the castle. The princess places her hands on the ornate stone lid and takes a deep breath.

“Forgive me, father,” and pushes it aside. The casket is filled with dried white flowers, and in the center is the king, presumably, wrapped in a thick brown cloth. In a mockery of a halo around his head are five small boxes, lined in velvet and set with the same cross insignia. A round key rests in each, except—

“Hey, one of them is missing.” Kurogane points to the empty box. The princess presses a gentle hand into the flowers, searching.

“No one has been in this room for fifteen years, I… I don’t know how this could have happened.” The princess presses a shaking hand to her mouth. Shiro can’t begin to imagine how she must be feeling, opening her father’s casket to defeat the enemy and finding out it was pointless.

“We’re wasting time! Every second we stand here Suzuishi is out  _ there _ , with the Galra,  _ alone. _ Can we form Golion with the keys we have?” Kurogane demands. The princess shakes her head.

“The black lion forms the body of Golion, and that is the key that is missing. It’s impossible to even move the lions without the keys.”

“Then let’s take the ones we  _ can  _ fly and get out there!” Kurogane grabs a key at random and dashes back to the elevator. Akira takes the remaining three and hands one to Shiro, holding his grip for a second too long. Shiro tugs the key from Akira’s hand, desperately trying to avoid his eyes, and a fresh wave of guilt washes over him. The elevator ride is tense and silent and Shiro barely processes what he’s doing until he finds himself jumping into a chute, spinning down to drop into a small speeder, and whisked away to a lion. 

It’s going to feel wrong, not piloting the black lion, but there’s nothing he can do. The key is missing, he’s in the wrong universe, he can’t  _ control  _ himself and he might die without seeing his friends again. Light floods the track and Shiro realizes he’s in the lake, heading towards the blue lion. His seat is pulled upwards into the lion and his hand moves automatically to place the key in its mechanism.

The lion roars to life, but it feels hollow. Mechanical. Shiro doesn’t feel anything, no connection in his head, no ghost in the machine. Only flashing lights and the thrum of engines give any indication that the lion is functioning.

“Chief here, can everyone hear me?” A voice crackles to life in his ear. It’s Akira.

“Affirmative,” he responds, and a moment later Kurogane and Seidou do the same.

“There’s a tracker in Suzuishi’s uniform we can use to triangulate his position. Follow me, I’m in the green lion.” Shiro rises out of the lake, following the blip on his radar. The controls feel stiff and slow, as though they hadn’t been used in years, and Shiro realizes that’s the truth. Fifteen years in this universe left the lions in worse condition than ten thousand years at home. Maybe Golion really  _ was  _ different from Voltron. The radar pings rapidly as he passes over Suzuishi’s location and Shiro finds himself heading straight for the Galra frigate resting on the sand. The ship’s main gun swings towards him and he can  _ feel  _ the crackle of electricity as the particle beam charges.

He pulls away, trying to dodge, but he’s not fast enough. The controls don’t respond like he wants them to and the beam glances off his side, sending him into a tailspin.

“ _ Takashi! _ ” Akira screams. Shiro barely catches a glimpse of the other lions racing towards him and he impacts with the sand,  _ hard _ , and blacks out.

 

He’s back at the castle. Not the old stone castle on Altea,  _ his  _ castle. The Castle of Lions. The control room is empty; it’s quiet, and the power is off. An unfamiliar star field stretches out beyond the view screens and there’s nothing else for him to tell where he is.

He’s under the lake on Altea and it’s dark. The water is deep blue and crushing and  _ so cold  _ he wonders if the void has come back for him. The blue lions sits, watching him silently with dark eyes. It shimmers ethereally in the darkness. He pulls himself inside and sits in the pilot chair.

The blue lion is cold and empty in his hands, a soulless machine. It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not speaking to him.

He places the key in the mechanism and closes his eyes. Tries to meditate.

Nothing happens.

He sits back and sighs in frustration. Shiro wasn’t trying to  _ control  _ the blue lion, he was trying to  _ connect. _ He stands to leave, giving up, and a sonorous voice shakes him to his knees.

_ “YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, PALADIN.” _

He feels it resonating inside of him, echoing down his spinal column and filling his heart with noise.

“No,” he whispers back. “This isn’t my world.”

_ “YOU SEEK ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS YOU CANNOT ASK. YOU SEEK SOLUTIONS TO PROBLEMS YOU CANNOT SOLVE.” _

“If I can’t fix it then  _ why  _ am I here? What made this happen?” he hisses into the empty cockpit.

_ “YOU KNOW THE CAUSE OF YOUR STRIFE. YOU ARE AFRAID OF RETURNING TO YOUR UNIVERSE. YOU ARE ADRIFT AMONGST REALITIES AND YOUR NATURE REJECTS THIS PLANE.” _

“What are you talking about? Is that why I can’t control myself? Because I’m afraid?”

_ “THERE IS A DEEP TRAUMA WITHIN YOU, PALADIN. YOU MUST CONFRONT IT OR YOU WILL NEVER ALLOW YOURSELF RETURN.” _

“How do I do that? I  _ need  _ to get back, I need to make sure everyone is okay!” Tears sting the corner of his eyes. He just wants to go home, he just wants to go  _ home _ .

“ _ YOU MUST NOT DOUBT YOUR PATH. YOU WILL MEET FATE IN THE STEAD OF THE DISPLACED PILOT.” _

“Are you talking about Quiet? What’s going to happen to him? What’s going to happen to us?” The tears flow freely now, pooling around his ankles, filling the cockpit with seawater.

_ “YOU WILL SERVE YOUR PURPOSE, PALADIN.” _

Shiro reaches out to the blue lion as the water rises above his shoulders, reaches out to the powerful voice reverberating in his head as he chokes on an ocean of his own tears, drowning in the guilt and it’s calling him,  _ it’s calling _ —

—and he wakes up in his chamber in the castle, soaked in sweat.

“Just a dream?” he whispers to himself. Shiro starts as a dark figure appears at the foot of his bed. It’s Akira.

“You’re lying to me,” Keith says, his face impassive.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, there wasn’t time.” Akira shakes his head slowly, stepping back into the dark.

“You knew from the beginning and you never said anything. You led me on.”

_ “Keith!” _ he calls, reaching into the blackness, searching for a body to grab onto and he grips  _ something _ and pulls hard with his left hand. His severed right arm breaches the darkness and turns to ashes at his touch. There’s a panic rising in his body and a tidal wave is about to crash down on him, he’s in the void again and he’s  _ cold, he’s so cold. _

A hand grips the stump of his right arm and he turns around. It’s Quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro breathes, and Quiet smiles. Wraps both hands around Shiro’s neck and they tumble down, down, down.

There’s no fight left in him, Shiro can’t move, can’t scream, and he starts hyperventilating through the crushing grip on his throat.

“What did you  _ do?” _ Quiet hisses, pushing his thumbs into Shiro’s windpipe. Tears leak from Shiro’s eyes as he coughs and drools. His lungs are burning and an aching sadness pierces his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, and Quiet’s fingers phase through his neck. Their bodies become flush and his arms wrap around Shiro in a crushing embrace.

“You’re going to hurt him,” Quiet whispers into his shoulder. “You need to tell him, before it’s too late.” The river of tears running from Shiro’s eyes sweep Quiet away, a leaf in the wind, and it drowns Shiro’s words in the roar of the seawater.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Don't worry. I'm 60 percent sure this is one of the .15 percent of realities where this plan works 100 percent of the time._ —Slav, _Hole in the Sky_
> 
> In a month I moved, I had exams, and exams are still coming, but I'm really excited to get to the next few chapters. Thanks for sticking around!
> 
> This wouldn't be half as good without [Pugglemuggle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle) catching all of my mistakes.  
> I'm on [tumblr](http://lacksley.tumblr.com/).


	4. resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The flight back is quiet, save for the soft sounds of someone breathing through an open comm link. Shiro doesn’t know who._   
>  _He flinches as he breaches the surface of the lake, the lion’s automatic docking protocols wresting control from him. There’s a rising feeling of tension as he speeds back through the tunnels, as though everything was amplifying; anxiety building in his chest, wrapping around his heart and lungs like a snake. He’s hyperventilating. He’s lying._
> 
>  
> 
> Episode 4.

_ But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize, when he catches his reflection on accident. _

  
  
  


His heart has turned to stone; Shiro sinks to the bottom of the ocean. Miles of water press down above him, crushing him into nothing. He touches the ocean floor, settling into the sand and it opens—a gaping maw—and swallows him whole.

_ It’s dark again. _

 

He shivers back into awareness, alarms blaring and names screaming over the comm link. Each flash of light is a piercing needle of pain in his head. The ocean is still with him, weighing down his sluggish limbs and it’s hard to  _ breathe.  _ His lungs are aching, he needs to get  _ out _ , he needs to power up Black and escape, help the others because they’re in danger,  _ he knows something terrible happened and he needs to go save them _ .

The controls are foreign and clumsy. He can’t feel the lion curl around his heart and  _ oh god,  _ maybe Black was damaged in the crash? His hands move in a practiced pattern to start the auxiliary power core and run diagnostics but the buttons he wants to press  _ aren’t there _ . Shiro is in the wrong lion, he’s been captured by the Galra again,  _ a third time,  _ and this is the torture chamber he’s going to  _ die _ in, isn’t it? He couldn’t save anyone, he got himself captured and it’s all his fault,  _ again _ . His vision swims with tears, filling the cockpit with salt water and he starts to choke on it, his lungs are filling with water and he can’t breathe,  _ he can’t breathe he— _

—hears a voice cry out his name, broken by static.

“Shiro! Chief, Moody!  _ Somebody please,  _ answer me!” Suzuishi is calling for him, and Shiro remembers. It  _ is  _ the wrong lion, the blue lion, but not Blue. “Don’t be dead,  _ please  _ don’t be dead!” Suzuishi cries. Shiro wants to answer him, because maybe that’s the least he can do; reassurance.

He doesn’t remember how to activate the comm.

Shiro struggles in a mute terror, searching for the right button to press to let the others know  _ yes, I’m alive. Please help me. _

“Shorty, it’s me, Chief! I can hear you!” Akira’s voice buzzes in his ear, and Shiro remembers.  _ He’s lying.  _ Kurogane and Seidou make themselves known, and Shiro is the only one left. No one knows what happened to him, if he died in the crash or escaped, if he was captured. He activates the comm.

“I’m here,” Shiro says. His voice is scratchy and hoarse.  _ He’s lying. _

The conversation washes over him; he’s not capable of participating, not right now. The others charged at the ship after he went down. A giant beast appeared from nowhere, and they were no match for it, not without Golion. Now the Galra have moved on, continuing their conquest of the desert through the night.

They return to the castle.

 

The flight back is quiet, save for the soft sounds of someone breathing through an open comm link. Shiro doesn’t know who.

He flinches as he breaches the surface of the lake, the lion’s automatic docking protocols wresting control from him. There’s a rising feeling of tension as he speeds back through the tunnels, as though everything was amplifying; anxiety building in his chest, wrapping around his heart and lungs like a snake. He’s hyperventilating.  _ He’s lying. _

By the time he arrives in the control room, he has no strength left. There’s a shout as his knees buckle and he can’t move,  _ he can’t move,  _ he hits the ground and his vision goes fuzzy.

“Takashi!” The voice is faint, and he clings to it as he slips under again.

 

Shiro is drowning. He sinks like a rock into the depths, falling,  _ falling  _ but there’s no bottom, no light or air, just  _ nothing. _ Quiet grabs onto his ankles and pulls him down faster, and he splits and duplicates until there is another, identical, weighing Shiro down. More of them appear, clutching and clawing at him and then there’s Shiro himself.  _ Another  _ Shiro, long-haired and gaunt. One grabs his right arm, with piercing yellow eyes. More, with one arm, with no scars, a dead one, a small child, a burned one. Shiro is surrounded, he can’t breathe because there’s no  _ air  _ and he’s dead, he’s small, he’s Sven and he’s Quiet and he’s  _ nothing and— _

—he’s awake.

_ He’s lying. _

It’s the only coherent thought he has. The harsh lights of the control room burn his eyes and he glances around frantically, trying to stop the pain. A beautiful face fills his vision and cool, soothing hands come to rest on his cheeks.

“Takashi please, answer me,” Akira whispers. There are tears in his eyes and Shiro’s heart swells with guilt.

“I’m here,” he answers, the same words again like he’s some toy with a pull-cord. Akira helps him sit up, and offers a cup of water. Shiro drains it immediately.

“I think you passed out from dehydration. How do you feel?” An angry retort jumps into his mind,  _ I almost died, how do you think I feel?  _ He swallows it down.  _ He’s lying. _

“Better,” he answers instead.

“It’s nearly dawn. The princess…” Akira swallows thickly, blinking back his tears. “The princess ordered the townspeople to evacuate to the castle. The Galra will be here soon, and unless we find the last key we won’t be able to stop them.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes.” Akira’s voice breaks, and he heaves a sob as the tears come back. “When you were hit I thought— I thought you were dead and I—I can’t lose you, Takashi, I just  _ can’t _ …” He clings to Shiro’s chest, pressing his tears through the uniform to drown Shiro’s heart. Quiet’s words echo in Shiro’s head. He remembers now, what happened after the crash.

_ “You’re going to hurt him. You need to tell him, before it’s too late.” _

“I know,” he whispers, arms wrapping around Akira. He’s living a lie he can’t break free of, at the height of his hypocrisy holding the man he shouldn’t love, the man he’s  _ deceiving _ in his arms. His selfishness is going to get someone killed.

The princess bursts into the control room, and they break apart, suddenly embarrassed. Kurogane and Suzuishi are behind her, and she holds aloft the missing key like a torch. Her once shimmering dress is covered in dust and cobwebs, but her eyes are bright.

"Take the lions and crush the Galra. We haven't much time." Akira hurriedly wipes away his tears and Shiro stands on shaky legs. He doesn't want to go out there, he's so weak he can barely stand. He's upset Akira, and he's injured.  _ He's lying. _

The princess presses the key into Akira's hand. "Form Golion and win. There is no other option." His face has turned to stone and he nods with a grim determination Shiro has come to recognize. Shiro tries to put on a brave face as well, but it's difficult when his legs are shaking.

They get in the lions anyway.

The monster is larger than Shiro pictures, and it towers over the hills and sand dunes he must cross to reach the desert. It's an ugly, horrific thing, with sharp gleaming teeth and horrible red eyes. He's chilled to the bone by the way it screams, too organic, too alive. He didn't realize he was expecting something akin to the robeasts of the Galra empire of his home universe. The blue lion's teeth sink into the monster's forearm and it bleeds bright red and shrieks in pain. He doesn't want to do this. Shiro doesn't want to fight something so alive. He doesn't want to  _ kill, _ he did that in the arena and told himself it wouldn't happen again. But the Galra never wanted to give him that choice.

It swipes at him in retaliation for the bite the blue lion delivered and Shiro dodges—tries to—and it catches him in the leg and he spins into the desert sand.

"This isn't working!" Seidou shouts. "We need to try something else!" And he's right: the lions on their own don't seem to be very effective. Shiro knows what the next step is. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't want to because it's going to be  _ wrong _ . He's never piloted Blue but he knows that it wouldn't feel like this. Forming Voltron will be nothing like Golion, he’s sure. Maybe he’s afraid that he’s going to forget his old team, by forming a different mecha and a different team, and he shakes his head. His team is not  _ old. _ They’re still  _ his  _ team, even if he’s not there for them. He hasn’t lost them, not yet. He  _ has _ to live through this.

“Golion!” he shouts into the comm. “Combine, get into a v-formation!” It’s as though all the lions heard him, like “combine” was the magic word: they shoot up towards the sun, lining up in a perfect v-shape as Kurogane screams into the comm.

“The lion’s moving on its own! We’re going to collide!” The separation between them decreases as they hurtle straight towards the sun.

“Combine,  _ combine! _ ” Akira shouts, and suddenly Shiro isn’t content to let the lion have total control. The blue lion is dangerously close to the red lion, and nothing is happening, warning lights blink and flash with the proximity and Shiro knows he’s going to die. This was all a ruse by the Galra, a death trap meant to lure him into a false sense of security with familiarity and he was so  _ blind  _ not to see this, he’s going to die a  _ liar,  _ lost and confused and alone in a blue metal shell.

There’s a burst of blinding white light and the blue lion shakes, metal groaning and creaking with the strain. The chaos makes it impossible to think, until it all clicks together. The lions, that is.

They combined.

The rest of the battle is a blur. It all happens too quickly for Shiro to process, his role is only support. He doesn’t know what to do if he’s not in the black lion, if he’s not the leader. He doesn’t belong here.  _ He’s lying. _ It’s a weight off his shoulders when the creature lies dead in the sand, cut to pieces by the sword  _ Jyuohken. _ A morbid sense of relief, that he only feels safe once something has been killed, but the retreating army and cheers buzzing in his ear are distracting enough.

 

The castle welcomes them back with joy and celebration. It’s nearing midday, and now that the adrenaline and panic have worn off Shiro is struggling to stay conscious. His mouth is dry, his arm is throbbing, and there’s a deep ache in his heart. He wants to rest, he just wants to rest, but the townspeople swarm the lions and he  _ can’t  _ be their savior right now, he doesn’t  _ want  _ to be. The crowd clutches at the five of them, crying and shouting and giving thanks and Shiro wants to cover his ears and hide like a child, to curl into a ball and shut out the world. 

Instead, Akira takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. All Shiro can think is that he doesn’t deserve him, his love or his kindness, because he’s a liar. A liar and a coward and a fool, and the crowd parts and quiets as the princess approaches them.

“Thank you for saving us.” She looks as tired as the rest of them, but stands tall and addresses her people. “These brave men risked everything to come to Altea. They are the new pilots of Golion. Please pay them the same respects as you would to me.” The princess shares a small smile with each of them, and leads them back to the castle. Akira doesn’t let go of Shiro’s hand, not until a maid shows them into separate rooms. The door shuts behind him, and he’s alone.

Shiro goes straight to the bed, collapsing on the dusty mattress, and he’d forgotten that anything could be this soft.  _ Except Akira’s hair.  _ His gut twists with guilt. He can’t go on like this, he can’t keep letting it eat him up inside. Every missed chance is like another poison pill he’s swallowed, and if he keeps waiting they’re going to kill him.  _ He needs to tell Akira. _ But how? Kurogane believed him because he already knew; he experienced the same predicament Shiro is now in, but Akira didn’t believe him then.

_ “You have to talk to him.” _

Shiro’s the only one that can tell him the truth, but the truth is so bizarre he’s not sure if there is any way to explain that doesn’t seem like a joke. He’s from another reality, and he switched bodies with the person Akira cares about the most. That part is true, Shiro knows, he knows how much Quiet loves Akira because he’s  _ felt  _ it, aching in his heart in the void and every time they touched. Shiro doesn’t want to hurt him, but if he says the wrong thing, he’s afraid he’ll break Akira’s heart.

He knows continuing to lie would do even worse.

So he decides. Now or never, better or worse, this charade has gone on long enough. Shiro opens the door.

An old woman stands outside with her fist raised, as though she were just about to knock.

“Excuse me,” she says. “Princess Fala sent me to tend to your injuries. I’m the town doctor.” She brushes past him, not waiting to be invited inside, and sets her bag on the lone chair in the room.

The doctor glances back at him. “Don’t just stand there young man, sit down!” The urge to leave and find Akira is still strong, his shoulders jerk the tiniest amount to run out the door, and the doctor grabs his right arm and pulls him back inside. Shiro hisses in pain.

“You can’t go anywhere until I’m done with you. Is your arm injured?” She pushes him and he falls onto the bed.

“Yes…” She’s moving too quickly for him to fully process what’s going on.

“Get that uniform off then. Stop gawking!” Shiro follows her instructions mechanically, pulling the black and white jumpsuit down to his waist to expose his arms and torso, and this is the first time he’s really looked at his body since this all began.  _ Quiet’s body,  _ he thinks, because the painful cut on his right arm reminds him that his own has a prosthetic. He should be taking better care of himself, for Quiet.  _ For Akira. _

The doctor cuts away the soaked-through pressure bandage and wipes away the dried and dribbling blood on his arm.

“I’m going to give you a few stitches, but it seems like much of the internal damage is already starting to heal. You’ll be fine if you don’t aggravate it anymore.” She takes a suture out of her bag and begins to work.

“Thank you,” he replies, wincing at the curved needle piercing his skin.

“What is your name?” Her question catches him off guard.

“Shiro—Shirogane Takashi.”

“It’s the least I can do, Takashi-kun. You and your friends saved us, it’s no trouble to keep you all alive for a little longer.” He watches as she knots the stitches together with a steady and practiced hand. “I set your big friend’s leg just before I came over here. You five have been through hell.”

“We came here from the Galra prison planet.” He doesn’t know why he tells her. Something about seeing her scarred and wrinkled hands knitting his flesh back together makes him trust her.

“I know,” she says simply. “You have the mark too.” She taps his forearm, finger landing on a small brand of a horned skull. Shiro looks at her questioningly, and the doctor pulls up her sleeve to show a similar mark, faded with time.

“When the Galra first came here, fifteen years ago, they captured everyone to be slaves. We were branded, marked like cattle.” She places thick white bandage over the closed wound, and winds gauze around his bicep. “I was about to be taken off-world, when Golion combined and drove them back.”

“It saved you…?” She nods.

“This fight is bigger than you, but don’t forget that you are a part of it now. You and your friends represent a new hope, that Altea won’t be living in fear of the Galra forever.” The doctor gives him a gentle pat on the cheek, and gathers her things.

“Get some rest, Takashi-kun,” she says. “You’ve earned it.” She opens the door to reveal Akira nervously hovering outside.

“Ah, another pilot. Are you injured?” He shakes his head.

“I… wanted to see Shirogane.” The doctor moves to block the doorway.

“He needs rest, not friends right now. You can see him later.”

“No, I’m not— we’re…” Shiro can almost see the words  _ “in love” _ die on his lips. “He’s my partner.”

“Oh!” The doctor seems embarrassed. She steps past Akira. “My apologies. Don’t let me keep you.” Akira watches her leave, and when her footsteps have faded away he glances inside.

“Takashi?”

“I’m here,” Shiro responds. Akira steps inside, shutting the door behind him, and Shiro’s palms begin to sweat. This is his chance, and he’s completely terrified.

“I wanted to see if you’re alright. The princess gave us separate rooms, I guess she didn’t know…” The mattress dips as Akira sits beside him. Shiro coughs. His mouth is suddenly dry.

“The doctor saw to me. I’m okay.” He wants to reciprocate, to ask if he got hurt during the fight but the words get caught in his throat. Akira gives a contented sigh and flops back on the bed, hair fanning out like some kind of model, and he’s so  _ beautiful _ that Shiro doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to hurt him.

“Stop staring, you’re embarrassing me.” He throws his arms over his face, and then peeks out between them. “You know… you look kind of sexy with your uniform like that.” Shiro glances down at his naked chest and flushes. He doesn’t cover himself, he doesn’t want to presume anything about Quiet’s relationship with Akira, but… Shiro stops that thought before it can go any further. He  _ needs _ to tell him,  _ now,  _ but he has no idea how to start, because how could he even  _ begin  _ to know what to say in this situation? Akira giggles and pulls him out of his thoughts.

“I’m just teasing, come on, lay down.” There’s a cool hand that tugs on his shoulder and Shiro lets himself fall, landing on his back next to Akira. They settle, quiet for a long time but Shiro is sure his heart is beating loudly enough for Akira to hear. Beside him, Akira’s breathing has gone slow and deep, and it seems that he’s fallen asleep, until he rolls over so that they’re face to face. Akira smiles.

“I really do love you, you know.” His voice is soft,  _ so soft,  _ and he places a cold hand to the center of Shiro’s bare chest. Shiro covers it with his own, and nods. His mind is still racing, and he’s afraid if he speaks some kind of ill-made half-thought might bubble out and make this worse than it has to be. It’s not going to be good. But he wants to try.

Akira sighs, his breath ghosting over Shiro’s face and he leans closer, eyes fluttering shut. Shiro jerks back instinctively, his head softly  _ thumping  _ against the wall. Akira’s eyes fly open and he snorts, covering his mouth with a hand, and composes himself.

“Would you…” he flushes, biting his lip. “Would you kiss me again?”

Shiro freezes. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I can’t,” he blurts.

“Why not?” Akira’s tone is curious, like he thinks Shiro is playing a game with him and he’s trying to figure out what it is. Shiro hadn’t meant to lead the conversation here, but it’s an opening, and he takes it with anxiety flowing through his veins.

“Because I’m not Quiet.” It comes out in a rush, but Akira just giggles.

“These walls are pretty thick, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“No, I’m not—” his mind stalls, trying to find a way to explain this unbelievable situation. “I’m Takashi Shirogane. I’m Shiro, not Quiet. I’m not  _ your  _ Shirogane Takashi.” Akira sits up, regarding him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t I been acting strangely? Haven’t you noticed the others are calling me ‘Shiro’?”

“We’re not exactly in a normal situation, I don’t think it’s odd for any of us to be acting ‘strangely.’ And the nickname, I thought… I thought that was Kurogane being himself. He does this kind of thing all the time.” Shiro latches on to that.

“Kurogane told you about what happened to him, that he went to an alternate reality, a parallel universe, right? It’s the same situation with me, I came from my own universe to here, and Quiet switched places with me.” It’s a bad explanation, he knows,  _ he knows,  _ but he can’t think of any other way. There isn’t a better way to explain something he can hardly understand himself. Akira’s expression melts from confused to serious.

“This isn’t funny.” A jolt of panic hits Shiro’s stomach. He  _ has  _ to make Akira believe him.

“I was calling you Keith before, right? That’s what your name is, where I’m from. Kurogane is Lance, and Seidou is—”

“That’s enough!” Akira shoves at him, breathing hard. “That’s  _ enough.  _ Stop it, it’s not funny. I  _ know  _ Kurogane put you up to this,  _ stop it. _ ”

“I would never lie to you, Akira. You have to believe me.” Even as he says it, Shiro knows it’s futile. Akira doesn’t believe him, not now, not after everything he’s done since he woke up on that ship headed for Earth. Shiro can’t blame him, for wanting to think it’s some kind of cruel practical joke, that his lover was taken from him during the most terrible events of his life. He wishes it was a joke, that Quiet was really here deceiving him, because then everything could go back to normal. How it should have played out, if Quiet was here instead of Shiro. He caused ripples, disturbances that shouldn’t have been, all because of what happened to him in the final battle with Zarkon.

“Right after we crashed, I said I didn’t remember. I still don’t, and it’s not because of a concussion. I’m not who you want me to be.” The words sink like stones in the ocean, an overflowing bathtub and the tears  _ come _ , the tears come cascading down the cheeks of a lover and a total stranger. Akira’s voice is raw, when he whispers,

“It’s still you.  _ It’s still you. _ ”

He leaves Shiro, the impact of the slammed door fractures a heart into pieces and Shiro doesn’t know if it belongs to him or Quiet anymore. He’s drifting at sea, his only lifeboat the thought that he might go back and things will return to how they should be, but it’s taking on water and he’s sinking,  _ he’s sinking  _ because it’s so far out of reach. He’s drowning, he’s forgotten how to swim and the shore is just out of reach. 

The door bangs open.

“What did you do to him?!” Seidou roars, stomping over and shaking Shiro by the shoulders.

“I told him the truth.” It’s a hoarse whisper, his throat gone dry from his own tears. Seidou relaxes his hold.

“That you aren’t Quiet?” Shiro nods.

“ _ Shit. _ ”

The truth comes out in a flood, the  _ whole  _ truth. Shiro tells him everything, about the dreams that he can remember and how Quiet is communicating with him, the way he’s pushing through and it’s becoming harder and harder to separate what feelings are his own and what Quiet is  _ making  _ him feel. That he lost his arm, back home, the Galra took it from him and maybe he was supposed to lose it here too, when they crash landed and he had to be stitched back together. He’s the black paladin and Golion is  _ not  _ Voltron and he’s barely keeping it together, he’s been captured by the Galra  _ twice  _ now and each time he escaped by the skin of his teeth. He’s never made it out whole and when he made it back to Earth, when he made it home, the agency that sent him into space treated him like a contaminated sample, a piece of meat, an  _ alien.  _ Now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to go back, if he’s going to be stuck in the wrong reality for the rest of his life and it doesn’t matter if he  _ could  _ never go back to Earth because now he doesn’t have a  _ choice.  _ He doesn’t know anyone and he’s completely alone with the phantom faces of his friends that have become total strangers, taunting him with memories of home and he can’t anymore, he just can’t, he  _ can’t… _

Seidou stays with him as he cries an ocean of tears, until he’s drained and dry and achingly numb and finally,  _ finally  _ falls asleep.

 

Shiro doesn’t dream. The void is darker than black and Quiet too, is becoming lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There are even realities in which I drown because, in those realities, I never learned to swim!_ —Slav, _Escape from Beta Traz_
> 
> I'm so excited to post this, because things are finally starting to heat up!
> 
> [Pugglemuggle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle) owns my ass for being such an amazing beta!  
> I'm on [tumblr](http://lacksley.tumblr.com/).


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